


When the Levee Breaks

by darlingkelly



Series: The Family Business [5]
Category: So Weird (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingkelly/pseuds/darlingkelly
Summary: Fi's latest standoff lands her in the hospital. Jack refuses to leave her side, even if that means cutting short the reunion with their mother. Molly and Carey continue the hunt for "the" demon on their own, and are forced to make some sacrifices in the process.





	When the Levee Breaks

This was never part of the plan. Reuniting with their mother, outrunning the demon, it was all important to Jack. But above all, he just wanted his sister back in his life. If he had just kept driving that night, past Stanford and onto Jericho by himself, Fi would’ve made it to her law school interview, and it would’ve been uphill for her from there. Married, with a job… a real, honest job. Jack wouldn’t be there to see it, but Fi would be safe.

Jack knew deep down that this was wishful thinking. But sitting at Fi’s bedside, seeing her hooked up to machines, knowing he wasn’t there for her when she got this way… It was killing him. He hid his face in his hands.

Doctors couldn’t figure out why she was in a coma. Her brain was functioning. She just wouldn’t wake up. Jack hadn’t left her room since he arrived. He couldn’t eat even though his stomach panged, and he spent the first night sleeping upright in the same chair in which he sat.

Molly came and went but never left the hospital. Their reunion consisted of one long hug with a few tears of frustration and regret. Molly tried to explain that she knew she was being followed and was running to keep the demon off Fi’s trail, but Jack didn’t care anymore. Then they sat in silence for hours. Carey, too. He hadn’t left Molly’s side.

Jack could almost hear Fi screaming at them to stop wasting precious time staring at her and continue on with the mission. But he couldn’t. And the hours ticked away.

“Baby, you need to eat,” Molly said to him. “Take a break.”

Jack ignored her. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor tile. I’d rather starve, he thought. “You should get in touch with Van,” he said instead. “She’s got this map with your Y symbols all over it. I also meant to ask her about this weird knife handle Fi picked up in Santa Cruz but I never got the chance.”

Molly’s ears perked up. “You found it? Where are you keeping it?” she asked, standing and grabbing her coat.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack mumbled. “Just like that? You’re going to run off again?”

“I need to get back out there; stay on top of this demon before he catches up to us.”

“And leave Fi?”

Jack couldn’t fathom what Molly was suggesting. The air became thick. Carey moved to the doorway.

“Honey…” Molly said carefully, “people are dying out there. People like Annie, who needed our help. Trust me when I say Fi’s going to be fine.”

“How do you know? Look at her!” he spat, slamming his fist.

“Please, Jack. Everything’s happening as it’s supposed to, and I could really use your cooperation.”

Jack was too upset to inquire further about what Molly meant. “I’m not leaving her,” he insisted. “When she wakes up, she’s going to be looking for me, and I’m going to be here.”

“Fine,” she surrendered. “Will you please give me the handle?”

“It’s in the trunk. Take the whole damn car for all I care,” Jack said, tossing his keys over to her a hair too aggressively. Carey intercepted them and held his tongue.

Molly frowned and made her way to Carey. “I need a few minutes,” she told him, and Jack listened to the sound of her heels click away down the hall.

Carey lingered for a moment as if deciding who needed him more. He apparently concluded it was Molly, because when Jack finally removed his hands from his temples and glanced up at the door, Carey was gone.

 

“Molly, where are you going?” Carey called, breaking into a jog to catch up with her. Molly wore black from head to toe, like always, and disappeared and reappeared between the overhead lights of the parking garage. “Molly!” he repeated, finally reaching her.

Carey swung her around to find she was crying. She quickly brought the back of her hand to her face and wiped away the evidence. He hesitated to hold her. Sometimes she’d collapse into him, other times she’d push him away. He needed to be held. The stress of the last twenty-four hours was weighing on him. He couldn’t bear to be rejected in this moment.

Molly reached out and cupped his face in her hands but said nothing. She gave him a pleading look and continued toward the car, which only made Carey angry. He wasn’t just the guy who carried her duffel bag as she fought the battles, damn it. Not anymore. An old friend had bled out in his arms. He’d watched Fi, who had been like family to him, go blue in the face as she was lifted into an ambulance and rushed out of sight. He’d stood over her hospital bed for hours with a hand on Molly’s shoulder, silently praying for her, for Molly, for Jack, for himself, to make it through this. He was a soldier now, just like the rest of them, and he was to be treated as such. He was ready to fight.

“You’re really leaving her? What the hell is wrong with you? Your kids need you!” he growled. His voice echoed in the garage. For the first time in a long while, he was intimidating.

Before Carey could speak another word, Molly slapped him across the cheek. Despite his tall height, she brought her face close to his and hissed through gritted teeth, “My husband died trying to keep my family safe and I intend to do the same. I have sacrificed everything for them and I will not stop now. I am ending this if it kills me, for them. Do you understand?”

Molly stared down Carey for several seconds.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good.”

Molly approached the Mustang and motioned to Carey to open its trunk. She tucked the knife handle under her jacket, gently closed the door and tossed the keys back to Carey.

“You drive,” she instructed.

Carey obliged and got behind the wheel. He had seen Molly get this way once before. He knew she didn’t mean to be so cruel, but she was fiercely protective when it came to her kids. He was wrong to imply she didn’t care.

“All right,” he let out. “I assume we’re off to find the rest of those psychics? Make sure they don’t end up like Annie?”

“No,” Molly answered, voice hoarse. “She was the last one.”

Carey cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the road. “Mol… you didn’t…”

“Have something to do with what happened to her?” she finished for him, rolling down her window and letting the fresh air blow on her face.

Carey’s blood ran cold as she took a pregnant pause.

“No,” she finally said, though Carey wasn’t sure he believed her. Her impassive reaction during the worst thing he had ever witnessed still haunted him. The more he reflected on it, the more anxious he felt. He reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes.

Carey popped out the lighter from below the dashboard and brought it up to his mouth. He rolled down the window, momentarily stabilizing the wheel with his knees.

“May I?” Molly asked, stealing the cigarette from his mouth. She took a long drag before tossing it out the open window.

“Hey!” Carey started to exclaim.

“Those things are disgusting. Cut it out.”

Carey frowned and began to pull another cigarette from the pack before giving up and returning it to his pocket. “Fine. So where am I driving to?”

“Take the next turn. We’re going home.”

Carey steered the car onto the onramp, playfully noting, “You got it. Highway to Hell, it is.”

 

Back inside the hospital, Jack lifted his head at the sound of a soft knock on the doorframe. When he saw who it was, he returned his eyes to the ground.

“Jack,” Van began, “if I had known this would happen, I never would have begged you to stay. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said. “You didn’t need to come here.”

“I had to,” she responded quietly.

The room fell to an uneasy silence. Jack had nothing more to say, fearing he’d no longer be able to control his temper if one more person implored him to take care of himself. Especially while Fi was laid up beside him.

“How is she?”

Jack finally looked up, causing Van’s eyes to dance away from him in remorse. Jack noticed her shrink as he stood and approached her, tensing. Seemingly to her surprise, he hugged her tight as a tear landed on his cheek. He remained there for a moment, in the comfort of her arms, before Van moved to gently wipe his face clean with her thumbs.

“You didn’t need to come here,” Jack repeated.

Van rubbed circles into his back. As Jack reluctantly pulled away, he watched Van’s complexion pale.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned.

“I didn’t come here just to check up on you,” she admitted. “I mean, I did, of course. But… I found something new about the case you’re working. You weren’t answering your phone. I didn’t think it could wait.”

Jack immediately grimaced. “There is no case. You just missed Molly. We’re all back together. Or at least we were.”

“Jack,” she said delicately, “you know there’s more to it than that. Can you just tell me, is Fiona a family name?” Van was sure to speak the name carefully. “Because there’s this piece of Irish folklore that mirrors your family’s history, and-”

“Van, stop it.”

“C’mon, Jack. It can’t be coincidence. And what happened to Fiona… if anything, it just confirms it.” Van made the mistake of motioning toward Fi as she spoke, and Jack felt his blood boil.

“Just stop already!” he suddenly spat. “What’s happened to Fi is not some part of a universal plan, okay? It was an accident. And she’s going to get better, and that’s it.”

“Of course,” Van was quick to reply.

Jack inched closer to Van, surprised to see her cower under his dark gaze (a gesture that would normally prompt him to instantly correct his behavior) but Jack found he couldn’t stop. He was furious. He took a single breath to calm himself and cupped Van’s shoulders, as he leaned down and said, “Listen to me, Vanessa. You aren’t a part of this. Go home.”

Van didn’t give Jack a moment to elaborate. She made a quick exit, her eyes clouding.

Jack allowed himself a moment to breathe. He felt like he was going to be sick. He called out to Van but she didn’t stop.

He looked to Fi in her bed and back down the hallway, ultimately deciding he could leave her for just a moment to apologize to Van. He caught up to her in the corridor and spun her around. She hid her face, so Jack lifted her chin with his fingertip.

“Van, I’m sorry. What I should have said, is that it’s too difficult for me, having you here with all that’s going on. It’s too dangerous. I can barely take care of my own family, and I obviously can’t take good care of myself either. I won’t risk you, Van. You were safe in New Orleans. When this is all over, I’ll come join you. And that’s not bullshit. I mean it. Just please, go home. Stay safe. Please, God, stay safe.”

“Yeah,” she said, visibly crushed despite accepting his kiss. “Sure. I’ll go.” Van quickly escaped before Jack could say another word.

 

Van exited the hospital as fast as she could. She climbed the stairs of the parking garage, digging for her keys while Jack’s sendoff reverberated in her head. Worse than his coldness was his hopelessness. She had seen it in his face, heard it in his voice. He was giving up. That’s why he wanted her gone, so she wouldn’t be there to watch him die.

She slammed her car door shut and pounded the steering wheel as the overhead lamps surrounding her began to flicker… flicker… and burst.

 

At the edge of Hope Springs sat a structure built of distressed lumber, riddled with dents and bruises as if every inch of its construction had been beaten. Because it had. Each visible beam had been painstakingly struck with a steel chain, made to look as worn as the building’s inhabitants. To most, Roadies was a dive bar, dimly lit no matter the time of day; a frequent hangout of cross-country bikers, truckers, local drunks and the occasional musician, though their roles were not at all mutually exclusive. But again, that was the perception of most, Carey included.  
He had spent nearly five years behind the bar top, sometimes stepping out to perform a song or two on the modest stage when encouraged by the regulars, and though he knew each of them by name, he somehow never learned many shared a backstory: Hunters, dozens of them.

This hard-looking building was a haven for many just waiting for the next call, the next fight, the sad news of a friend lost in battle. Carey’s parents, Ned and Irene, provided a temporary shelter for these people, and most importantly, the drink that helped them cope with such painful memories. And now that Carey knew the place for what it really was, he stood at its entrance and took it in.  
A sliver of sunlight came in through the stained-glass windows, casting a ruddy glow across the stools resting upside-down on the counter. He pictured his regular patrons, swapping stories and patting each other on the back. To him, they were just rambles, though he wished he had paid more attention to their coded conversations when he had the chance. But he hadn’t. Until very recently, he was perfectly oblivious to the idea that Roadies could be good for anything more than helping him finance his studio apartment.

Carey became suddenly aware of the warm arm that looped itself through his.

“Home, sweet home,” Molly grinned. “Does it look the same as how you left it?”

Carey took a moment to answer, “Not at all.” There was a sadness in his voice. “It’s funny,” he continued, beginning his familiar route to the bar top, “how I could have spent so much time here and never suspected what Mom and Dad were hiding.”

“We’re parents. It’s our job to keep our kids innocent and unaware for as long as possible,” she joked. “You’ll understand one day.”

Carey frowned. The promise of “one day” seemed to be dressed in the same cloak of innocence and unawareness he’d been under for most of his life. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm, with everything that’s happened,” he admitted.

Molly forced a smile. “This is a place of comfort for me. Plus,” she added, joining him at the bar top, “it’s where I store my favorite toys.”

She slid her hand underneath the bar and pushed a bolt out of its lock. To Carey’s dismay, she lifted the bar top up and over to reveal a variety of protection amulets, ammunition and weapons.

“My family’s dowry,” she announced with a sly smirk.

“What the-!” Carey exclaimed with childlike excitement. He grabbed hold of a double-headed battle axe and eyed its blades.

“For vampires,” Molly said, making a phantom swinging motion at his neck. “But that’s not what we need right now. What I was looking for… is this.” She reached into the once hidden case and withdrew a heavy, leather-bound book. “I’ve been told most of what’s in here has been uploaded to a digital archive, but I have better luck with the real thing.”

“I recognize that. It’s, uh, Celtic magic, right?”

Molly nodded as she began flipping through the book, skimming sections with her fingertip before shaking her head disapprovingly and moving on to another page.”

“You know, if that’s online somewhere, I can probably help you find what you’re looking for a lot faster,” Carey offered.

“That’s what Jordan tells me, but the thing is… I won’t know what I’m looking for until I see it.”

Carey stared blankly at Molly. She glanced up and caught his eye.

“What?” she questioned. “If you really want to help, pour us some drinks.”

He laughed, “It’s like, nine in the morning.”

“And this is a big freakin’ book, barkeep.”

Carey scanned the bottle selection. “Okay, I have to ask… since when is the IT guy on your radar. Don’t tell me Jordan’s like, a computer programmer slash werewolf hunter.”

“Jordan? No. I didn’t have memory of it at the time but, years back, Fi tried explaining how he created some sort of virtual world, whatever that means. What I found more impressive was the suggestion that he used it to catch me, which is not a very easy thing to do. Anyways, your mom and I did some digging and after finding merit to Fi’s claims that some kid could create an alternate reality from scratch, we knew we wanted him on the payroll. We figured if he could create a whole world out of cyberspace, he’d have no problem hacking police records, security systems-”

“Fake IDs? Credit cards?”

“Exactly.”

“You guys assembled a pretty good team,” Carey said, sliding Molly a glass. “Though I could’ve played a bigger part than bartender these past few years.”  
Molly took a sip of her drink and sighed. “Carey, Irene can’t know I got you involved in this. She’ll never forgive me. I promised her.”

“What? But I’m good at it. What about this big fight you have coming up? I’m supposed to just stay behind?” he asked, insulted. “Why would you promise something like that?”

“Don’t get upset. Your mom knows what I’ve been through for Jack and Fi and she doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late.”

“Come on, now. Calm down. Molly set down the book for a moment to comfort him. Cupping his shoulders, she looked him in the eyes and reassured him, “I have faith in you, Carey. I haven’t just been letting you hang around. I needed you. Thank you for being there for me.”

Carey was lost for words. He kept his jaw locked, afraid of what his mouth might spit out before his brain could stop him. He started to bring up his hand to Molly’s when she broke her stare and returned her attention to the book.

“You’re always doing that,” he grumbled as he poured another round of drinks.

“Doing what?” she replied, unamused by his complaint.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“Good, because I need to focus on more important things right now, like finding this damn spell.”

“You know, back in college, whenever my roommate was drunk, he’d try to convince me that the section I needed to study most was whatever the book decided to show me.”

“Hm, that drunk, huh?” Molly said under her breath. Before she could get out another word, Carey swiped the book and flung it across the room. Molly moved to reprimand him, but was distracted when the open book caught her eye.

“There is no way…” she started.

The pair hovered over the book and analyzed the open page.

“That’s it!” she said, astounded. “Carey, you’re incredible!”

“Look how easy that was,” Carey teased, immediately brightening. “Some witch you are.”

She elbowed him in the side before lifting up the book and cradling it in her arms. “I’m going to work on this in the back office. Watch the doors while I’m gone.”

Carey nodded. As Molly retreated to the office, he reached behind the bar and removed a bottle of cleaning spray and a rag. He restored the bar top to its usual state, placed the remaining stools on the floor and cleansed the length of the wood grain. He adjusted a few of the glasses hanging in rows above his head, readjusted them, then switched the order of the bottles into the order he was used to seeing them in. He threw the rag over his shoulder and caught his reflection in the mirror.

He pushed back his hair and ran a hand along the stubble on his face. His world had changed so drastically in the last few weeks, he sometimes felt like a different person entirely. Had Molly not been there to serve as a constant, he might have lost himself altogether. He was grateful for her, and for their undefined relationship, although he longed for a little definition.

Carey’s stream of consciousness was cut short by movement behind his reflection. He spun around and scanned the room.

“Molly?” he called, starting toward the back office.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice asked.

Carey, startled by the unexpected company, turned to see who was speaking. An attractive woman about his age stood at the bar’s entrance. He squinted at her. She had short blonde hair, and for a brief moment, seemed to resemble Annie. The closer Carey got to her, however, the less familiar her appearance became.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said.

The woman smiled, “I’m sorry. I saw you through the window. I’ve been driving for hours and was so relieved to find a place to stop and rest.”

“Well, luckily we’re open. I mean, we aren’t, legally speaking, but you’re here, and so am I,” he nervously rambled. “Are you a… believer?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “A… believer in drinking before noon? Why, yes, in fact. I am.”

“Great,” Carey laughed. “I’m Carey.”

“Meg,” the woman replied.

As Carey turned away to pull a bottle off the shelf, Meg’s eyes shifted from brown to black, and back again.

 

Meanwhile at the hospital, Jack reached into his shirt and clutched the angel charm hanging from his neck, too exhausted to notice its temperature was growing warmer, like before, as his opposite hand became colder. It wasn’t until Jack felt the pressure of a palm on his back that a shiver ran down his spine.

 

From across the room, Fiona observed Jack’s startled expression, confused, before following his eye-line to her hospital bed. To her disbelief, she saw her own body lying there without her in it. She turned again to Jack. Beside him was a young woman wearing white, holding Jack’s hand in hers.

“Gabe?” Fi whispered in astonishment.

Gabe’s spirit grazed Jack’s face with her fingertips. The moment she brushed his cheek, Jack stood and moved away. Saddened, she redirected her attention toward Fi and extended a hand.

As their hands touched, the room took on a foggy gray hue.

“I watch him all the time,” Gabe confessed to her.

“I can’t leave him yet,” Fi insisted. “Not like this.”

“You need to follow me.”

“No,” Fi let out, but before she could protest any further, she was overcome with a sense of calm.

She trailed Gabe until the gray fog fell away to reveal a deep navy-blue night. The air chilled as shadows of tall trees appeared all around her. It wasn’t until she saw the cairn that she realized exactly where they had ended up.

“I’ve been here before,” she thought aloud, seeing the O’Sianhan tomb.

Gabe led Fi to a stone tunnel, its walls lined with lit torches illuminating generations of artifacts and photos. The wind picked up as she approached the familiar gates.

Fi’s hair whipped at her skin. Gabe was shouting to an entity too bright for Fi to decipher, “I’ve brought Fiona Phillips,” she called out. “She is ready to receive your gifts.”

Fi vaguely saw the outline of tall, thin figures, but she kept having to turn away. “Are those… angels?” she let out, shielding her eyes.

Gabe ignored her question, instead explaining, “They’re returning to you the gifts that were rightly yours.”

“I- I don’t know if I want them,” Fi admitted. “Annie seemed tortured by them. They- they got you killed.”

“They’ve belonged to your family for generations, always heightening with the start of the fionn’s twenty-third year, for the battle against Aileen.”

“The fionn?” Fi asked, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.

Gabe turned to her. “You, Fiona. The white witch.”

“What am I supposed to do? I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. It’s what you’ve been preparing for your whole life.”

“The demon? That’s its name? Aileen?”

“It has many names. Aileen. Azazel. The fallen angel.”

Fi was terrified, so much so that she didn’t realize at first that her feet had left the ground. She hovered before the bright light.

“This is your only opportunity, Fi,” Gabe continued. “If you refuse these gifts, your family will die.”

Fi, faced with an impossible decision, thought of her family. Her father had died for this. And if she lost Jack and Molly as well, due to a moment of cowardice… She couldn’t take the chance. She mustered her bravery and shakily cried out, “Okay! I accept!”

Fi was instantly consumed by the bright white light, then all but suddenly, as if caught in a vacuum, the light, wind and noise was gone.

Fi gasped for air. She felt electrified.

“It’s done,” Gabe told her. “We need to get you back to your body.”

As she made her way to the opposite end of the tomb, she heard a strange scream.

“Fi! He’s found you! Run!” it called out. She recognized Van’s voice but couldn’t see her.

Fi was surprised to see worry wash over Gabe’s face.

“Go!” Gabe said, speaking quickly. “And please, don’t tell Jack you saw me here. He thanks God I didn’t live to see what he’s become. Let him go on believing that.” With her last syllable, she raised a hand to Fi and blinded her with another white light.

 

Back at Roadies, Carey removed two glasses from the overhead rack and a bottle of orange juice from the mini-fridge. His newest companion bobbed her head in approval.

“So, what are you on some kind of vacation or something?” he asked, trying to appear cooler than he was.

“Yeah, I’m touring all the best bars in Colorado,” Meg snickered. “No, if you really want to know, I had to get away from my family.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Can I ask why?”

Meg hesitated. “I love my parents, and they wanted what’s best for me… They just didn’t care if I wanted it. I was supposed to be smart, but not smart enough to scare away a husband.” She paused, looking down at her hands before continuing, “It’s just… Because my family said so, I was supposed to sit there and do what I was told. So, I just went on my own way instead.”

Carey cleared his throat and finished mixing their drinks.

“I’m sorry,” Meg offered. “The things you say to people you hardly know.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Carey quickly responded with a smile. “I can relate. This bar, it belongs to my parents. I’ve been helping them out here for years and, as it turns out, they’ve kept me in the dark about some pretty significant business decisions. And, it appears they don’t have any plans of including me anytime soon.”

Meg grabbed a glass and lifted it in the air. “Here’s to us,” she announced.

The two brought their drinks to their lips. Carey took a gulp, eyeing the woman and her glass. She frowned and placed the drink back down on the bar top.

“Seriously?” she smirked. “Holy water? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice?” She raised a palm to Carey, her eyes turning black. She tried to throw him backward but her powers seemed to fail her.

“Damn it,” Carey replied. “I was really hoping I was wrong about you.”

“What the hell is going on?” Meg demanded.

Molly emerged from the back with a sinister grin. “Looks like you planted your ass in the middle of a devil’s trap,” she teased.

Meg lunged at Molly but found herself confined to the length of the bar top. She looked up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes when she discovered the barely noticeable markings whipped into the beams above her.

“Hey, Carey,” Molly called out. “Pass me that dusty bottle of Johnny Walker Blue your mom told you to reserve for a special occasion?”

Carey obliged without question. As soon as he lifted the bottle from its place on the shelf, the floorboards beneath Meg swung open, bringing her crashing into the cellar. The fall knocked her out.

Carey wheezed, “Was no one going to tell me that would happen!? That seems like something I should have been warned about.”

Molly joined his side and handed him the bottle. After a beat, she yelled down to an unconscious Meg, “Hang in there, bitch. We’ll take the stairs.”

Carey swiftly followed Molly to the basement where he helped to restrain Meg. Molly motioned to him to retrieve a gallon of water from the storage closet – apparently pre-blessed – because when he tossed it over Meg, she awoke with a snarl. She immediately set her eyes on Carey.

“Was that really necessary, pretty boy?” she let out in a sarcastic tone. “Hey… wait a minute. I knew your blood smelled familiar. If I’m not mistaken, I recently took a little staycation in your brother’s meat suit.”

Carey did his best to ignore her, not really understanding what she implied.

“You wanna explain it to him, Mol?” she asked impatiently. Meg let out a laugh. “God, the things Fiona would’ve let me do to her in that body… Makes me blush just thinking about it.”

Carey suddenly understood. “The bruises on Fi’s face… you did that? You bitch!” he spat, barreling toward her. “And if you hurt my brother-”

“Eh, just a few broken bones,” she bragged.

“Stand down, Carey,” Molly commanded. “She’ll get hers soon enough.” She grabbed another jug of water and doused Meg with it.

Meg winced, her body producing a thick layer of steam that filled the cellar.

“Where’s the demon that’s been hunting me?” Molly interrogated.

“Screw. You,” Meg growled.

Molly retrieved a third jug and threatened Meg with it. “Tell me where he is!”

“Why would I tell you?” Meg taunted.

Molly threw the water over her. Her neck snapped back and a low hiss emanated from her mouth. “Tell me where he is!” she repeated.

“Your kids, they’re already dead,” she said with a dark laugh. “He found them. You left them, and they’re dead.”

Carey darted his eyes in Molly’s direction.

“She’s lying,” she assured him.

“Am I?” Meg sinisterly responded. “He killed Fiona while she slept, and slit your Jacky’s throat.”

“Shut up!” Molly screamed, storming toward the demon and whipping her across the mouth.

“In the hospital,” Meg continued.

“No,” Molly let out under her breath.

“I’m not wrong…” Meg smiled, blood leaking out of the sides of her mouth.

“Go ahead, Mol. End her,” Carey encouraged.

“Not until she tells me where the demon is, damn it!”

“The demon with the yellow eyes, right?” Meg hissed. “Aileen. He’s going to kill you all. You too, pretty boy.”

Carey dropped to the ground when he heard a loud pop, Molly doing the same beside him. Meg groaned as a burnt smell filled the basement, and he suddenly heard his mother’s voice say, “You can go straight back to hell, you ugly bitch.”

Molly took the opportunity to pressure Meg, moving past Irene with Ned by her side, and pressed a hand into Meg’s wound.

“Ned, get Carey out of here,” his mother shouted.

“No!” he argued, resisting as his father dragged him away.

As he rounded the cellar stairs, he heard Molly begin to chant, “Is mise an O’Sianhan…”

 

Jack was startled awake by a feeling of dread. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. He immediately looked to Fi, panicked to find her lips blue and her skin ice cold.

“Fiona!” he gasped.

She sat up with a start. “Jack!” she tried to yell back, but her cry was muffled by an oxygen mask. She swiftly began to claw away at various tubes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Slow down, Fi.” Jack said, jumping up to assist her. “Easy. Let me get the doctor in here.”

Fi ignored him, pushing him aside. She seemed different, but Jack was careful not to draw conclusions. She tried to move too suddenly and wavered, holding her head in pain.

“Fi!” Jack hurried to support her, though his hand subconsciously moved to the vial of holy water he had in his back pocket.

“He found us,” she groaned. “The demon’s here, Jack. We’ve got to go, now!”

“What? Where?”

“The parking lot!”

“How would you know that?”

“Because, I saw it.”

Jack felt uneasy. “What do you mean, you saw it?”

“Will you stop asking questions and get moving already? We have to get out of here,” she insisted. Fi reached for the clothes folded up by her bedside. Jack turned away to give her some privacy, a worried look appearing on his face. He held the vial of holy water to his chest and slowly unscrewed the top.

“C’mon,” Fi growled, pulling him toward the door. "This isn’t going to be easy.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Next Work is the last in the series! Please leave a comment below and let me know what you think!


End file.
